Unreachable
by vratsababe
Summary: Hermione Granger has been out of Viktor's grasp for over twenty years but a trip to England throws him for a loop... will she be any more in reach than she has been the last two decades?
1. Reaching England

_**Quick author note- **I made a little mistake and breached canon ever so slightly. Hannah works at the Leaky Cauldron, not the Three Broomsticks... oops. I guess that little tidbit will make this story slightly AU but whatev... Hopefully it doesn't ruin the story for you. :-\_

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_"You vill be meeting me in hall before ball?" He had asked her in his broken English. His fingers messed with the sleeve of his robe pulled down forcedly at his side, a nervous habit he frequently exuded. _

_She smiled, just as nervous and excited as he felt, "Yes, of course. I'll be there. I'm so excited, Viktor. Thanks so much for asking me."_

_"It should be me thanking you, Hermy-own. You are beautiful girl, I am klutzy boy," He said as she giggled, waved, and carried her books hurriedly from the library._

He hadn't received nearly as warm of a goodbye the last time he had seen her. In fact, she hadn't said goodbye at all. For some reason, he had thought of her that evening as he ordered a third repair of vodka. He hadn't seen her in over twenty years, but it seemed like just yesterday she had danced with the enemy in her lovely lilac dress. She looked at him with the same girlish happiness that had belonged to her on the night of the Yule Ball and fire filled his stomach at the thought. Ivan, the barman, looked at his profile as he stared out into nowhere, hand still on the full glass.

"Viktor, I'm thinking you might want to head home before the man of steel succumbs to the seduction of the vodka," Ivan chuckled, snapping Viktor back into the small Bulgarian pub.

"No, no," Viktor shook his head, his dark hair falling before his eyes, "It's not the drink… just reminiscing."

"A girl, _nyet_?" Ivan pried, nudging Viktor with an elbow as he dried a glass.

Viktor shook his head, "A woman… a woman from a very long time ago. I shouldn't waste my time thinking of her."

"Time is never wasted when thinking of a beautiful woman," Ivan placed the glass on a stack of its freshly-cleaned brothers. He leaned onto the bar and looked at the younger man, "Maybe she is thinking of you too?"

Viktor shook his head violently this time, "She moved on two decades ago," He pulled a piece of yellowed newspaper from his wallet and unfolded it. It was cut out from a British newsprint and sported a picture of a smiling young bride clutching lovingly onto her new husband.

Ivan couldn't read the English wedding announcement, but understood the full meaning without the translation. He clicked his tongue sadly and clapped Viktor on the shoulder, "I'm sorry, son."

"Don't be. I told you my thoughts were pointless. Last time I was in Britain I stopped by the bookshop she told me she visited often when she was younger and, as fate would have it, I saw her. She was so beautiful, Ivan. She looked so happy and I couldn't even stop in and say hello," He rested his chin on a large hand and sighed, "And she has children."

"Oh no," Ivan came from behind the bar and sat next to Viktor, pouring himself a glass of vodka as well.

Viktor nodded, "She has at least two; a boy and a girl. Precious children… I'll be back in the Isles next week for a seminar and just thinking about it made me think of her."

Ivan looked lost for advice, but took a different approach, "There are many women out there, Viktor. You've never been one to be lonely on a Saturday night… this isn't like you at all. I've got your tab tonight, okay?"

Viktor nodded, "You really don't need to do that, but I appreciate the gesture behind it, Ivan. Thanks a lot. I've really got to look past this; I've moved on."

Ivan smiled as Viktor picked up his coat and walked out of the bar, but his smile faded as the door closed, "I really hope you can, Viktor. You're too good a soul to be torn apart."

He flicked his wand finally and the zipper on his bag zipped itself neatly. He looked around his expansive bedroom hoping that if he forgot anything that it would hop out before him. Sighing, he extinguished the lights in the room and pulled his suitcase out into the hallway. He closed his eyes, leaning up against the wall and trying desperately to clear his mind. Hermione Granger had not left his mind since she had entered and thoughts of her were just too painful to keep trying to repress. She wasn't the only one as Ivan had said. There had been many women in his life, several of which he had thought he had loved. Why hadn't Katya or Irena or Anna plagued him like the young girl from his youth continued to do? Why did he wake up thinking of her from time to time? Why did he ever look at the girls at the Quidditch stadiums and wish it was her looking back at him? He opened his deep brown eyes and looked at his watch. The Portkey would be leaving soon and he needed to be with it when it arrived in Hogsmeade.

The International Quidditch Association was centered in New York after the war had demanded it be moved from England, but tradition insisted on gatherings in Queerditch Marsh, the sport's birthing place, just past the bounds of Hogwarts. He was to be speaking to a small grouping of aspiring seekers about his career as a Quidditch prodigy and how he came to be the coach of the world's most successful team in over a century. It was tedious, yes, as the season had just ended, but something that gave him a sense of reward. Speaking to the next generation was always a joy to him, as he had no children to spread his passion to. This thought came to him, but it didn't bother him as one might think it would.

He looked at his surroundings and they were all too familiar to him; Hogsmeade remained frozen in time. He walked into The Three Broomsticks and strode over to the lodging desk. A blonde woman from the bar called over to him ("Just a minute!") before bounding over to the counter, blotting a splash of Butterbeer from her daffodil robes.

"What can I do for you," She smiled widely and dropped the rag onto the desk, exchanging it for a fluffy white quill.

"I haff reservations for a veek-long stay," He said in his heavy Bulgarian accent. The woman looked at him, squinting in concentration.

"Viktor Krum?" She said, only a bit unsure. He looked a great deal different from when the area had seen him last, his frame more muscular and filled out and his eyes framed by black spectacles, with the added years only slightly visible, but he was still famous. He nodded.

"Hannah Abbot-Longbottom," She offered him a hand, which he took. She smiled like the fans he was so accustomed to, but with more dignity, "I'm a fan. I was in Harry's year at Hogwarts."

"Oh?" He said, unsure what to say in reply, "He's doing vell, I suppose?"

"As well as he could be," Hannah adopted a sad expression as she looked through the reservation book and checked his name. She took a key from the wall behind the counter, "He lost his best friend and brother-in-law last month. Terrible, terrible accident on the job… an Auror… left two kids and a wife behind."

"Give him my condolences, if you vould," Viktor said as Hannah handed him his room key.

"I will," She said, "I think you knew him, actually. Ronald Weasley?"

Viktor's stomach sank. Hermione's husband was killed. She was unhappy, she was hurting… she had lost her love as he… no. He hadn't really loved her like she loved that man.

He cleared the block in his throat that had appeared there so suddenly, "I met him vonce or tvice, yes. He vas a very polite young man vhen I met him. Vhat a terrible loss. Hermione vas a good friend of mine as vell."

"Oh yes," She nodded, "I see her often. I will tell her you send your good thoughts as well. She certainly needs them… her and those poor children."

She offered him a polite, still a trifle sad, smile before assigning one of the younger employees to show him to his room. Upon reaching the room he dropped his bag and fell down onto the bed.

His Hermione had lost her love… just as he had lost his: to someone, to something which just couldn't be fought with.


	2. Reaching Acknowledgement

_"You… look stunning, Hermy-own," She had caught him breathless, but he managed to choke out a few words of compliment._

_"It's Her-my-oh-knee, Viktor," she corrected him for the millionth time, but smiled. "But thank you very much. I don't think I've ever received such a compliment from a member of the opposite sex before."_

_He was taken aback. "Vot? Boys in England can't notice a pretty vitch vhen they see vone? Boys here must be blind."_

_She blushed as he took her arm in his. "I wouldn't say that…" She trailed off and looked back at the crowd. His eyes remained focused solely on her…_

He looked up at the ceiling, not quite sure how to digest the news he had just uncovered. If he had been a cynical human being, he would have immediately thought she was back on the market, but he was not. He could almost see her, her chestnut curls pulled back from her face and blanketed by a black lace veil. He could see her crying, holding her two children close to her. She would look at them and see him every single day. She would see him in them, but not just him, and that bothered Viktor greatly. He remembered attending a friend's funeral and seeing his wife destroyed by grief, holding onto his coffin as the official just stood back and looked at her with the most tremendous amount of pity he had ever seen…

He must have dozed off. It was past his usual bedtime in Bulgaria although it was still light outside. It was pitch black when he awoke, however. He wiped the corner of his mouth, and searched in the dark for his glasses. Putting them on the bedside table and retrieving his wand, he cast light into the room once again. By his watch, it was two-thirty in the morning there. Sadly, he didn't feel much like sleeping anymore and, with a quick change of clothes, headed down to the bar below.

The room was mostly empty, but the usual crowd expected at a bar at this time of night was very present. A dark-featured woman in a deep green veil was sipping at a silver goblet clenched tightly in her red fingernails at a table near the stairwell. Not far away was a large man with sand-blond hair and a great matching beard playing poker with a slighter man in deep purple robes. He strode over to the bar, not caring to look at any of the other inhabitants and sidled onto a stool… he had spent far too much time in bars in the past two days.

"Up already?" called the woman he had met earlier from a booth behind him. He turned to see her with the war hero, Neville Longbottom. Neville waved politely and Viktor returned it with a small smile. Hannah scooted out of the bar and came to her post behind the bar. "What can I get you for?"

"Just a hot chocolate, please," he replied, running a hand through his dark hair, "Time adjustment… it takes me a vhile."

"Oh, I know the feeling," Hannah laughed. "Neville and I went to Australia for our honeymoon, and I was sleeping all day and partying all night… Although I think that's the point of a honeymoon." She smiled widely at her husband who chuckled and took a long drink of his Butterbeer. Hannah served Viktor a large mug of deep brown chocolate and leaned on the bar. "Are you married, Viktor? I hope you don't mind me asking…"

"No, not married," he said, stirring the chocolate with the tip of his wand. "Never met someone I vanted to make that commitment vith."

He wasn't sure why he was so easily discussing his personal life with strangers, but it came as a little bit of a relief. It had really been bothering him as of late that he was forty-one and unmarried, and he was still feeling the need to reach out, even after talking with Ivan. He needed to say something else, perhaps to add some levity to his pitiful words, "But I've been told again and again; who needs love vhen you're a Quidditch player. The game is your lover, after all."

Neville and Hannah gave him the response he had aimed for, slight chuckling, and he relaxed a little, allowing himself to smile and give the front that he needed. Neville sunk back into the cushions a little more and absentmindedly swirled the contents of his glass in his hand, "Well, marriage isn't for everyone. And perhaps the person you're looking for is looking for you too."

_I doubt it,_ Viktor thought, but took a sip of the cooling chocolate. He felt like he was being felt sorry for and he really didn't like it. He turned the subject, "So, Neville, yes? You are professor at Hogvarts now?"

It had been a while since he had worn his Seeker robes and it was no lie that they were a bit tight, but not in a bad way. Since he had retired, he had been able to train and build up his muscles instead of keeping his frame lean and more aerodynamic. Boots pleasantly covered in mud and grass and morale high after speaking to the International Quidditch Association Youth, he landed his broom back in Hogsmeade after the flight from the marsh. His stomach was calling out for filling and he was more than ready to answer the call. First, he would need to change into regular clothing, as he was getting more than a little attention in his current robes. After signing the bra strap of a witch not much younger than he who claimed to be at his first World Cup, he pushed into the Three Broomsticks and took the stairs to his room. He pulled a set of navy blue robes on after a quick shower and pulled on his black frames.

The hallway was empty, as was the stairwell, but the restaurant was full of people. He noticed some of the young adults from the Seeker Seminar sitting in the large booth in the corner of the room, and they tried to flag him over to sit with them. He waved curtly in their direction, but was pulled aside by the barmaid.

"Someone stopped in this afternoon that I think you would rather have lunch with than a group of kids straight out of school," Hannah said, careful not to smack him right in the face with the load of trays she was carrying.

"Really? Who?" Viktor crossed his arms playfully and looked at Hannah expectantly.

"This person is in the back room, and this person would be delighted to see you," Hannah hinted, setting a tray down in front of a young couple snogging in a booth. She flashed a toothy grin at the Quidditch star and nudged him with her free hand in the direction of the back room. "Just go."

Viktor walked into the small back room which was lined with portraits and potted plants. Sitting at a table next to an open window, the sunlight falling onto her face was—

"Hermione?"

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	3. Reaching Familiarity

_"I didn't vant to tell you so soon, but it… it vas true vhat I said," Viktor said as he caught up with Hermione in the hallway. She hadn't been in the library as often lately and he hadn't gotten the chance to explain the second task with her since… well, what he had said to her, anyway._

_"Viktor, I…" She stopped, clutching her Transfiguration book closer to her. "I care about you too. This is all just going so fast."_

_"I know, it's going fast for me too and like I said, I didn't vant it to be out like that so suddenly." He looked at his hands nervously. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away. She was the only girl he had ever feared for in that sense; usually he couldn't scare the girls away with a fire-breathing dragon and the promise to tie them up under a lake… oh wait…_

_"Herm-own-ninny, follow me?" He could spot the she-vultures coming from one direction and took her hurriedly in another. They walked quickly down another, less populated hallway and then into another deserted side-passageway. _

_"I'm really sorry if I frightened you vith that is vhat I vas trying to say," he said slowly, trying to get the whole meaning out. Her eyes remained on him, waiting to continue, which he did, blushing. "My accent gets in vay. You mind if I show you instead?"_

_Hermione shook her head, a small glimmer of mischief in her honey eyes. Viktor took her chin in his hand and brought her face to his, kissing her lightly on her lips and pulling back just as quickly. She opened her eyes again slowly and smiled at him so sweetly that he wanted to kiss her again, but didn't. Kissing her again would be stealing, not by him, but she may steal part of his soul instead._

"Hermione?" he stuttered and she looked up at him. "I hadn't expected to see you again… ever."

She stood from the table and came to hug her old friend. She hadn't changed at all. Her hair was pulled back in a half-back, and her eyes carried the same light that he had remembered so clearly. She was more filled out than she had been in her teen years; carrying two children beautified her more than he could have imagined. As he held her close to him he felt like the seventeen year old standing soaked by the lake with a shivering girl in his arms. She wasn't shivering now, though. She seemed to be radiating warmth and all the tingly feelings that he couldn't repress even now. He felt himself smiling.

"I stopped in to speak to Neville Longbottom about some family matters," she said as they pulled apart. "And he told me that he and Hannah had seen you here. I couldn't believe it. We haven't even written since…"

"Since shortly after the var's conclusion," he finished for her. "I haff missed you greatly, Hermione."

"You say my name so nicely, Viktor Krum. I am impressed," Hermione said, setting her arms akimbo with a large smile painted across her features. "What else has changed about you since we saw each other?"

"Vell, if you haff the time, ve could sit and talk a vhile?" he said, but quickly added. "But if not, I understand. You are a busy voman, I am sure."

"I think I can make the time," Hermione replied, retaking her seat by the window. "I see you're wearing glasses now. That's certainly a change."

"Bludger to the face," he said frankly, taking off the frames and turning them over in his large hands. Hermione cringed in the seat across from him. He chuckled. "Not as big of deal as it sounds. The ball broke my left brow, and the bone damaged vhatever it is… long story short, I need glasses to see out of this eye."

He pointed to his left eye and she leaned forward, looking for a mark of the accident. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"More than okay, I vould say. Optometrist says I vould haff needed them anyvay. I just saved myself a trip to the office," he insisted, replacing the frames on his angular face. Hermione stirred her tea and then replaced the silver spoon delicately on her napkin. He cleared his throat. "Other than that, I haven't changed too much."

"You're looking very well," she noted as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Are you married, Viktor? I never heard mention in Harry and Ron's Quidditch talk, but I never listened well."

"No, I am not," he said shortly, swallowing a rather hot gulp of Darjeeling. "Your friend told me about Ronald. I'm very sorry."

She gave him a sad smile. "I am too. He was an incredible man, and an incredible father. Hugo and Rose just went back to school last week. It's been a really rough month in our household."

"I can't even imagine." Viktor leaned back in his chair. "I've been to a lot of funerals, but it's a whole vorld of difference when it's a spouse. My father vas a vidower."

Hermione sipped at her tea and looked blankly at the table. He studied her for a moment before he noticed tears starting to make their way down her freckled cheeks.

"I never thought I would lose him, Viktor." She rubbed at her eyes furiously. "I never thought it could happen to him. Being an Auror is such a dangerous job, but I couldn't have ever been ready. There was no warning…"

Viktor reached out a hand and rubbed her shoulder. She sobbed into a handkerchief procured from her purse.

"Hermione," he said softly. "Novone is ever ready to lose someone they love. Novone can ever be prepared to see them go and sometimes." He paused as she dabbed the fabric at her eyes and looked into his of deepest brown. "Sometimes ve can't ever see ourselves moving on, but it eventually stops hurting."

He felt he was muttering lies as she sat before him, hurting him immensely, but she sniffed greatly. He noticed his hand was still on her shoulder and he removed it quickly. She smiled as best she could through her tear-streaked face. "Would you like to walk around town with me, Viktor. I'd really appreciate the company."


	4. Reaching Friendship

_**My lovely readers,**_

_**Here is the next chapter like you've been asking for. I currently have up to chapter 10 planned out and am in the process of writing… in order to get them out quicker I need lots of reviews! Just send me a little note about the story (like it, hate it, need to fix something, suggestions… whatever) after you're done and I'll be super inspired!**_

_**Happy ficcing!**_

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_He walked over to the familiar table—familiar from a distance anyway. She had her head buried in a large leather-bound book just as always and she was alone. The library was unusually empty, but it was nearly ten at night and most students had given up on homework by now. The giggling girls had left and now it was just those who actually desired to study remaining in the cavernous room. _

_"Excuse me," he said in a library voice. She looked up at him, confused and he went through the words he had planned beforehand, "Do you mind if I sit here?"_

_She looked around at all of the empty tables and then looked behind her to see if he had actually been addressing her. Seeing no one she replied, "Sure, if you want to."_

_"Thanks." He took the chair opposite her and sat down. He pulled out a notebook and his school books, preparing to work. Oops—no quill. He leaned across the table and whispered, "Vould you happen to have a qvill I could borrow?"_

_"Oh, yes. Take this one." She handed him the quill beside her book and rummaged through her bag for another. He began to write and she looked at his notes. Fascinated by the Cyrillic text, she eyed him with great interest. "That's incredible. I've never seen Bulgarian cursive. You have very nice handwriting."_

_He looked up. "Do I? I've alvays thought it vas qvite messy."_

_"Well, I suppose I wouldn't know, but it looks very pretty," she noted as she picked her book back up. _

_He chuckled and leaned forward. "Do you mind if I ask your name?"_

_"Hermione," she replied, offering him a hand in greeting. "Hermione Granger."_

_"Ooh, that is qvite a mouthful. I am Viktor Krum." He took her hand and kissed it lightly. She blushed._

_"I know who you are." She smiled. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. I know even less about Quidditch than I do about Slavic languages, but I was impressed by your flying. I can't fly three feet off the ground and you flew all over that stadium…"_

_He gave a small laugh. She was so much different than any other girl he had ever met._

The summer weather was just beginning to subside into autumn, yet it was plenty warm enough to go without jackets or sweaters. He stuffed his large hands into the pockets of his navy robes, and watched Hermione fold her arms as they walked.

"What brings you back to the Isles, Viktor?" Hermione asked as she looked into the window display at Zonko's.

"Qvidditch, of course," he answered. "Speaking for a group of aspiring seekers. It's great fun, as I haff no children of my own."

"Hugo would love to meet you," Hermione noted, returning her attention to her old friend. "He loves Quidditch. He's more of the Beater kind, though, like his uncles. He had his tryout yesterday."

"That's vonderful. I loff hearing of children with a passion for something." He smiled down at her. "Whether it's Qvidditch or government, or just knowledge in general…"

He trailed off and she returned his smile most warmly. "I'll never forget when we met, Viktor."

"Me neither, Hermione."

"Say it again…"

"Me neither, Hermione?"

"I like hearing the way you say my name. You must have really practiced," she giggled, not knowing how true that assumption was. "Anyway, I was so surprised that you wanted to sit with me. I couldn't stop thinking about it all night."

"Vell, it's not often I can meet a girl… a voman who doesn't just recognize me for my talent," he said candidly. "I can do other things too, surprisingly."

She looked ahead; silent, yet still smiling. His stomach grumbled and he realized he hadn't gotten what he had gone to the Three Broomsticks for. "Vould you like to get something to eat? I forgot that's what I went back to the inn for."

"Oh, of course," Hermione nodded. "Madame Puddifoot's is a pretty nice place just as long as it's not Valentines Day."

They sat and had lunch in the small café, chatting all the while. If he had thought being away from her was painful before, being with her and hearing the slight and not-so-slight references to her late husband and how she loved him had intensified the pain. She had been so happy and even now she was living. He had felt hollow for so long after the confirmation in the paper. She was able to pick herself up after losing her husband of twenty years.

"We had discussed the risks before he had even begun his career." Hermione sighed, setting down her spoon. "We knew something terrible could happen, and he told me very clearly that I needed to keep myself together for the kids. He wanted me to keep on living, even to remarry one day."

Viktor's attention was fixed intently on her words. She took a drink of her wine and continued, "But right now I could never see that happening. Not yet, anyway."

"Of course," he reassured her. "My father never found another after my mother died. He was a vone-voman sort of man."

She smiled sadly. "I wish you had found someone, Viktor. You would be such an amazing father."

"I thought I did vonce." He stirred his soup pensively. "She vas too good for me. She moved on after ve parted, but perhaps it vas for the better. I never stopped loving her."

"That's too bad." She had no idea he was staring at this woman at that very moment.

They walked around for the remainder of the afternoon until evening fell. She hugged him goodbye at long last and he held on to her as long as he possibly could.

"I would like to write you again, Viktor," she said as he finally released her. "I seem to have forgotten just how much I've missed you."

"I vould like that very much, Hermione," he said and she smiled as he said her name once again.

"If you're ever in the area again... remember I'll be here." She started to walk away. He stayed with his hand on the door of the Three Broomsticks.

"And if you are ever in Bulgaria you haff a place to stay." he waved as she apparated home and back out of his reach again.

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_**Remember--Review!**_

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Next chapter- Reaching Visitors  
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	5. Reaching Visitors

_This is a very short chapter. It was actually 3 pages longer in word format... but I broke part of it off, **wrote it** **better** (it was a little lacking in the interest department), and made it into the next chapter with a new character whom I think you'll adore. Sooooo, long story short, expect the next chapter up tonight. :D_

_Also, a great thanks to my beta reader, _elyaeru, _who runs ink . accio . nu where I post a great deal of my Malfoy Fanfics. :D_

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_"Viktor! It's freezing!" she said, still standing on the stone steps of Hogwarts Castle. Her gloved hands rested on her hips and her cheeks were already pink from the cold._

_"This? This is nothing." He tilted his head back and let the snowflakes land on his face. "You should visit Russia in the vinter. You haff never felt cold until you haff spent December in our neck of the voods."_

_"You're crazy." She hopped off the steps and tracked through the snow towards him. "You want me to come out and have a snowball fight with your friends… in the middle of this?"_

_"It's beautiful veather. A little snow never hurt anyvone… vell, not snow like this." He looked up at the sky and then back at her. "You look cold. Vould you like my scarf?"_

_"Won't you be cold?" She looked apprehensive as he took off his scarf._

_"Haff you been listening, Hermy-own? I vill be qvite fine," he laughed as he wrapped the Vratsa Vultures scarf around her pretty throat. "You look nice in Bulgarian colors. Perhaps you shall haff to come to vone of my games and vear our colors?"_

_She smiled hugely and admired the scarf. "It smells like your cologne. I like it."_

_"Vell, you may have it on one condition." She looked up at him as he smiled back at her. "You vill haff to vear it and you vill haff to think of me vhen you do."_

He landed his broom outside his large manor. It was beginning to snow already. It was only mid-November and already the white bits of cloud were falling on the dark stone of the house and onto his striking raven hair. He knitted his brows as he walked back into the house and stuck his Dragonbolt broom in the broom closet off the entryway. A letter was sitting on the marble table by the door where the owls were trained to leave the mail and he grabbed it hungrily. The familiar pen on the front told him it was exactly who he wanted it to be. He had written Hermione a week ago and invited her and the children to come out and visit him for a week after Christmas; he could only hope she would answer positively.

He unfolded the letter.

_Dear Viktor,_

_I only have a minute to reply but I wanted to get this back to you before you made plans--the kids and I would love to come and visit on the 27__th__ of December. Hugo is very excited to see the game with the coach and Rosie is as well (she's become as taken with Quidditch as her brother is!). I'm just as thrilled, of course. I've never been to Eastern Europe. Do you think we would be able to go into Sofia and see the library that you told me about so many years ago? We'll discuss Portkeys later on, I expect._

_Much love,_

_Hermione_

He smirked as he folded the parchment back into its original form and set it back on the table. He had been writing Hermione back and forth every other week since they had parted that day in Hogsmeade, and he felt like he had really regained his friend. They would be coming to see the Vratsa Vultures play their annual game against the Abakan Ashwinders in the snow-coated stadium at Vratsa and spend some time exploring Bulgaria. Perhaps he would also take them to see a ballet in Sofia? Hermione would see her library, and he would see his Hermione.

He had been the only one living in his house since his father passed away fifteen years ago, and the house showed this fact greatly. It was clean, of course, as he had a house-elf (Hermione wouldn't be too happy to hear this, but Benislav was a family elf and very well taken care of) but it looked lonely. Within the month, he had hired a decorator, painters, and constructors to come and make the place as warm and inviting as he felt it should be. This wasn't because Hermione and her kids were coming necessarily, but he had been inspired to get this work done that he had been putting off. The stone façade of the house had been scrubbed and scoured, the walls had been painted a shade of crimson to replace the fading black and green wallpaper, and the guest rooms had been redecorated to reflect the sort of modern feel he had desired rather than his mother's old floral sheets' musty appeal.

The house looked fantastic and it felt a great deal more welcoming. He leaned back in his recliner by the fire in the drawing room and read the letter Hermione had sent him last, telling him how excited she was to come out and see him. He closed his eyes and pondered the situation. Hermione had seemed very closed off when they had written each other during her fifth year and even right after the war. Now that her husband had been killed she had been very fast to recover their correspondence. He hadn't wanted to think about it much, but she was likely keeping him as close as he was because she needed to reach out to someone. He was flattered, but at the same time he felt saddened because she hadn't spoken to him before.

The gray light filtering through the heavy velvet drapes was dimming as Christmas morning approached by the hour. They would be there in three days time and he would put the matter behind him.


	6. Reaching Bulgaria

_This chapter is officially a MONSTER. hehe. It's my favorite so far with a whopping **3,368 words!!** Don't expect another chapter tonight or even tomorrow... I have to finish numero seven and pass it off to my beta... and I've been reading nonstop. There's this author who calls herself Miss Yetigoosecreature who runs bulgarianbonbon . com and I am hopelessly addicted to her stories... which are over a hundred chapters long. I've been reading a lot. SO, here's the chapter! Read and review plz!. :D_

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_"You really didn't have to get me anything, Viktor," Hermione insisted as her date passed her a small gift wrapped up in gold paper._

_"Is nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's something small. It's not a big deal."_

_Hermione tore the paper off the present and opened a small gold box inside to reveal a corsage made of deep red roses interlaced with periwinkle and black ribbon. She lifted it from the box and admired it. "This is beautiful, Viktor. Thank you."_

_"Allow me?" He took the corsage from her and secured it safely around her wrist. "I should haff given it to you before ve vent into the ball but there vas not the opportunity."_

_"I wish I had gotten you something, a boutonniere or something." She sighed, still looking at the flowers on her wrist._

_"It's not necessary. You came vith me tonight and that is all I could haff asked for, Herm… Herm-o-ninny." He struggled with her name and then looked to her for forgiveness. She giggled and set her head on his shoulder as they sat outside in the cool winter air._

It was snowing lightly when Viktor woke up that December morning. Despite the drifting snowflakes, the snow was shining brilliantly through the gray clouds, warming the stone walls of Krum Manor. He heard it coming and he groaned. A Siberian Husky, a blur of black and white, bounded onto his bed and started licking his face.

"Get down, you big ugly brute!" Viktor grumbled sleepily. "You're not a cute little puppy, Sven. You're huge."

Sven looked up at Viktor with his clear blue eyes, and then jumped from the bed's plush crimson bedding. Viktor fell back onto his pillows and sighed. "Well, I'm awake now."

He stood and walked over to the window directly across from his bed and looked out onto the house's forest surroundings. The pine tree tops were dusted with glistening white snow and the ground was a sea of white. The lane leading into the small wizard town was covered completely by the cloud fractions. He ran a hand through his raven hair with the budding appearance of silver before abandoning the window's view and going to shower.

Before he even had a chance to blink, it was quarter to eleven. Hermione and the kids would be arriving in just fifteen minutes, but it didn't seem entirely real. He had invited just her during the Triwizard Tournament and, after talking to her friends, had seemed reluctant. Now, however, she had decided to come without another thought. How was it now that she had decided to make the journey _after_ she had been officially tied down with a family? It didn't make sense, but he put it out of his mind as he had to get to the Portkey point to greet them. He slung a silver fur cloak over his black robes and pulled on a pair of gloves as he stepped out the back door, and into the manor's frosted grounds.

He had been sure he wouldn't be making the journey to the forest's edge on his own. Sure enough, Sven came running across the snowy ground to join him as he passed the Quidditch hoops. He leaned down and scratched his companion's ears as he checked his watch.

"Now, Sven," he addressed the canine. "Ve speak only English now, understand?" Sven sat, wagging his tail and panting in excitement. Viktor sighed. "You don't understand any language. You'll respect anyvone if they let you take up half their bed and play vith you every vonce in a vhile."

He continued the short walk to the point where the Portkey would land with Sven trotting along happily beside him. The trees were starting to get larger now, their boughs appearing greener and more defined as he walked towards them. Once he arrived, he sat on a large rock overlooking a frozen pond and Sven sat beside him, setting his fuzzy head in his master's lap. His watch told him he had just two more minutes to wait… just two minutes until visitors arrived at Krum Manor.

The snowflakes were still falling just as slowly and lazily as they had been that morning. They fell onto the hairs of his cloak and into his dark locks, contrasting brilliantly. The minutes ran into each other and suddenly a large crack sounded. Three people, one girl who was short and lanky, a boy who was medium height and slightly stockier, and his Hermione, all appeared clutching a coat hanger. Hermione brought a hand to her head to combat the dizziness from travel before spotting Viktor sitting on the rock. She broke into a great big Hermione smile and beckoned that her children follow her to meet him.

"How vas the trip?" Viktor asked, hopping off the rock and meeting Hermione in a hug.

"Short, but as uncomfortable as Portkeys have always seemed to me," she replied, squeezing him tighter in her arms before breaking apart and putting a hand on each of her children's shoulders. "Viktor, I'd like you to meet Rose and Hugo."

"Nice to meet you both." He shook Hugo's hand and kissed Rose's politely. "Velcome to Bulgaria."

"Thanks," Rose said brightly. She spotted Sven still sitting on the rock and her honey eyes brightened. "What a beautiful dog! Can I pet him?"

"Of course," Viktor replied. He whistled and Sven jumped off the rock and nearly knocked Rose over in excitement. She pet him happily and he just lay there on his back with his tongue sticking out. Viktor chuckled. "He really likes you."

"Rose loves animals," Hermione said, still watching her daughter with the dog. "She wants a dog, but Crookshanks is just too old to have a yapping puppy running around the house."

"Crookshanks… vait… your cat?" Viktor asked stunned. Hermione nodded and he gaped at her. "You mean to tell me that thing is still alive?"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly call him a _thing…_" Hermione began but Hugo cut her off.

"Mum, he's a big bag of fur… he is very much a thing."

"Hugo, that's enough." Hermione rounded on him before continuing, "Yes. He's still alive. I think it's the Kneazle in him that's kept him around so long… Let's change the subject?"

Hermione always had been touchy about her cat. Viktor was never really keen on cats, but Hermione had insisted that he was a nice. He laughed, though, at her desire to change the subject, and addressed Hugo, "So, you're a big Qvidditch fan, no?"

"I love Quidditch. I'm one of the Beaters for Gryffindor," he said proudly. "I'm really excited to see the match tomorrow."

"Me too. I can't wait to see the new Keeper play… he's so fit," Rose said breathlessly, looking up from the dog and joining the conversation.

Viktor smiled. "Vell, I think, as the Bulgaria National Coach and their former seeker… I might be able to arrange a meeting… just maybe."

He looked at the kids as their jaws dropped. Hugo stammered, "Really?"

"Yes, really." Viktor nodded. "And maybe they vould have a short session vith you both. Call it a belated Christmas present."

Hugo looked at his sister excitedly and her face matched his. Hermione smiled at Viktor. "That's really sweet of you, Viktor."

"Is nothing," he insisted. "Should ve go get you all settled in at the house or vould you all rather stand here in the snow vith a smelly dog?"

"Let's go inside," Hermione replied, picking up her suitcase which sat at her feet.

"Let me get that for you, Hermione." Viktor took the suitcase from Hermione. "And you too, Rose."

"Thank you, Viktor… always the knight in shining armor," Hermione teased as Rose handed him her duffle bag as well.

"Is my job. I vas raised that vay," he teased right back. They walked in silence around the orchard up until the kids saw the Quidditch pitch at the south end of the house. They gabbed about it and how they wished they had brought their broomsticks.

"Yes, because a former Qvidditch player and present coach vouldn't have any broomsticks at his house," he joked as Rose and Hugo fretted over their packing choices. Viktor smiled at Hermione and noticed something on her person that he hadn't seen before. Peeking out from under her gray pea coat was a crimson and black striped scarf. He shifted the bags in his hands and reached out to grab the fabric. "You still have this?"

Hermione loosened it and pulled it from her coat. "Of course. I promised I would wear it, didn't I?"

She grinned wordlessly at him and he smirked back at her; they fell silent once again, and followed the kids up the back steps onto the balcony. They moved aside and he opened the door, leading them into the hallway that led from the front door to the back. The three guests looked up at the portraits lining the walls, pictures of ancestry all housed in gleaming gilded frames of gold. The occupants of the portraits looked down at them, each of the people with raven hair and dark eyes. Hermione scrutinized them closely as they passed, something Viktor had anticipated.

"None of them speak English except for the vone of my father upstairs," he told them. "But none of them vill bother you. They're pretty accommodating to guests. Feel free to talk to my father… he's qvite a talker…"

Hermione ran her finger over the Cyrillic writing on the hallway's last portrait. "These are incredible. I wish we had talking portraits of the family in our house. It's like having tiny pieces of history in your home."

"Oh yes." Viktor rolled his eyes. "Pieces of history that spit out every thought in their head every time you pass by."

They walked up the stairs and down the left side of the hallway. Viktor opened a door on the right side of the hallway. "Rose, this vill be your room. The bathroom is through that door over there… and Hugo, your room is the vone right across the hallvay." He reached over and opened the door to Hugo's room. "If you need anything at all, my room is the vone that is straight down the hall… the right side of the stairs."

"Thanks," the kids chorused and went in to unpack. Hermione followed Viktor down to the last door on the left side of the hall.

"This room vas my mother's that she fixed up for guests," Viktor said as he opened the door for Hermione. "She loved the color lavender, as you can tell."

"It's lovely," Hermione said, taking the suitcase from Viktor and setting it at the end of the bed. The walls of the room were pale lavender, as was the bedspread. Small yellow and pink flowers arrayed the comforter and were mirrored in the dried flower arrangements on the desk. Deeper purple curtains were pulled back from the windows and the sunlight fell across the bedside table and onto a crystal vase holding fresh pink roses.

"No vone has stayed in here for sixteen years, but I dusted everything… cleaned the sheets…" Viktor looked around the room, at the fine-crafted wood furniture and then finally at Hermione. "Vell, I am thinking you vould like to get settled. I'll be downstairs in the kitchen, the open room off the hallvay that I showed you. Vhen you and the kids are ready, I'll take them flying if they vant."

"Oh, they will want to," Hermione said surely. "Thank you, Viktor."

Viktor said nothing, but nodded curtly as he shut the door and headed downstairs.

The snow subsided into a gray-skied afternoon. Viktor took Rose and Hugo flying on the Quidditch pitch and insisted that Hermione join; an offer which she refused. It turned out that both of the kids were decent fliers. Rose was a good Chaser while Hugo was a good Beater. They flew around the pitch for several hours before they were all too hungry to fly anymore.

"How vould you all like a good Bulgarian dinner?" Viktor asked as the three of them joined back with Hermione on the ground.

"Personally, I'm starving and I've never had Bulgarian food. I think dinner sounds lovely," Hermione answered, pulling her elbows in close to her as the temperature dropped.

"Yeah, sounds good." Rose pulled the Quidditch goggles off her freckled face, untangling them from her bushy red hair.

"What is Bulgarian cuisine?" Hugo questioned.

Viktor thought for a minute. "Vell, ve could have moussaka or gyuvetch, or Kavarma Kebap…" He was receiving blank looks from both of the kids. "Vould you prefer beef or pork?"

"Beef," they both chorused.

"I think I can figure something with beef," Viktor said with a smirk. "I am qvite the cook."

Viktor began the dish while the kids bathed. Hermione chose to sit in the kitchen and watch the chef at work. She watched him with a new kind of awe. "I had no idea you could cook."

"I vasn't lying vhen I told you I could open my own restaurant," he said while cutting up an onion. He dropped the minced root into one of the pots on the stove. "There are many things you don't know about me, Hermione."

"True," she said simply. "Where did you learn to cook?"

"My father. He vas a chef at the restaurant down the hill. People came from all over to eat his dishes." He lifted a pot from the burner and poured hot vegetables into a serving bowl. "Everything by hand. Never take shortcuts vith magic. It takes avay the essence of the food."

"That seems so foreign to me anymore… cooking without magic," Hermione mused. "I've gotten so used to using my wand for everything."

"Magic isn't just in the vand. A person can change everyday things into magic just because they are that kind of person," he stated and then furrowed his brow. "That didn't make any sense, did it?"

"No, Viktor." She shook her head. "It made perfect sense."

He looked over at her and she started laughing. He began to laugh too just because she was laughing and soon they didn't know exactly what they were laughing about. Hermione clutched at a stitch in her side and leaned up against the bar, gasping for air. "I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard."

"Vhat vere ve even laughing about?" he asked as he returned his attention to plating the food.

"I don't know, but I think that was too many W's for you in one sentence." She giggled. "I'm going to go grab the kids."

He watched her leave the room and felt a strange ache. She made him feel so carefree and for just one moment maybe she had forgot that she was aching too.

"That was excellent," Hugo said, leaning back in his chair. "I think I'm ready for a nap now."

"I agree one hundred percent," Hermione agreed with a nod. "That was the best meal I've had in a long time."

"I couldn't eat another bite if I tried," Rose said, yawning hugely.

"You all flatter me," Viktor said with a chuckle. "I think I'll have you all over for every dinner. Usually I just cook for myself anymore… sometimes for some of the team."

"I just might take you up on that offer." Hugo stood from his chair. "May I be excused for bed?"

"If it's all right vith your mother." Viktor nodded. "You both really vore yourselves out playing Qvidditch. Get rested up for tomorrow, yes?"

"Rose, Hugo, go ahead and go to bed. We're getting up nice and early to get to the stadium." Hermione gave them the okay and they hurried out of the room. Their footsteps could be heard bounding up the staircase. A clinking noise indicated that Sven was checking in for the night with Rose.

"I'll get the table cleaned off." Viktor stood and began taking plates off the table.

Hermione grabbed a few plates as well. "Let me help?"

He nodded, and together they cleared the table in just a few short trips. Viktor took his wand out of his pocket and flicked it. The dishes began cleaning themselves in the warm soapy water in the sink. Hermione stepped in close to him and started helping him with this task as well. She was just inches away from him now. Her arm brushed up against his and he nearly jumped back as if burned. "Sorry," she said, her eyes glimmering in the candlelight from the chandelier above. He swallowed hard and turned his attention back to the sudsy water. Just a few more left…

"Done," he said, stowing his wand back in his pocket. He pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and watched Hermione turn and lean casually against the counter.

"I'm actually excited to go see this game tomorrow," Hermione expressed candidly. "I've never been to a game without Ron."

Viktor wasn't sure how to reply to this, exactly. Thankfully, she continued, "It wasn't ever much fun. I tried to follow along, but whenever I did, he told me I wasn't understanding it properly… maybe I said a word wrong or something. He was always correcting me and I couldn't ever properly enjoy just being there. It was like I was a small child. He was always very condescending and if I just sat there and watched without being too enthusiastic about it, he'd tell me I was pouting." She exhaled deeply, "Sorry about that. I've been holding a lot in since… since he passed away. He wouldn't have been happy that I came here."

There was a long pause in which neither of them really wanted to say anything. Viktor thought intently about what he was going to say before deciding just to say it. "I'm really glad you came, Hermione."

"I'm glad I did too." She stepped forward and hugged him tightly, resting her head against her shoulder. "Ginny, Ron's sister, said it was too early but I knew that I needed to be with someone for just a little while who didn't make me sad or upset. Everyone back home just keeps telling me that I should still be sad. I am, of course, but I can't stop living."

Viktor's hand found its way to her hair and he stroked it comfortingly. She held him tighter and kept venting her frustrations. It was comforting to him in a way because he felt like he was actually helping her. She trusted him. She could feel safe with him and, in a way, that was the best feeling in the world.

"I vill alvays be here for you, Hermione," Viktor whispered. "Alvays have been… alvays vill be."

She looked up at him with her caramel eyes and he looked back at her without holding back the intensity that he felt with her. Their faces were very close. He could feel his breath on his neck and he wanted so badly to kiss her…

The grandfather clock in the entryway chimed off ten and he pulled away from her most reluctantly. "I think it's time ve head off to bed. Like you said, ve have an exciting day tomorrow."

"Of course," she said with a note that could be interpreted as either sad or regretting… he couldn't tell. They climbed the stairs silently and parted ways. He couldn't get the picture of her as she stood so near to him from his mind as he closed the door to his room and collapsed onto his plush and lonesome bed.

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ALMOST! You thought it was going to happen and, frankly, I almost thought it would. haha. Review and you'll see a seventh installment soon. 7 is my favorite number so... we shall see what happens. :D


	7. Reaching Remembrance

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Okay, as some of you may have noticed, I posted chapter 7 before, but took it down. It turns out that I had a lot of revisions to make... I took some things out to move into chapter 8 (meaning a more epic chapter after this), and then deleted some things altogether. Hopefully, I did the right thing. haha. As always, read, review, and tell your friends about this fic! I'll be in Oregon for a week, but I'm really hoping to get chapter 8 up beforehand.

_A quick thanks to my second beta, cascaper._Read her stuff; it's excellent!

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_The stacks of books in the library had become their haven; their safe place to talk. At this time of evening, people didn't tend to bother them like they would if they were together in the daytime. Just half an hour until curfew, yet half an hour was a precious amount of time they were happy for. Although they did spend a great deal of time together either talking about school or working on homework, they were gradually getting acquainted._

"_Viktor," she addressed him after a few moments of quill-scratching and silence. "Why did you want to ask me to go to the ball with you? I mean… there are prettier girls at Durmstrang and even Hogwarts… and we barely knew each other's name."_

"_If there are prettier girls, Herm-own-ninny, I vould be interested to see them," he said softly, taking her hands in his. She blushed lightly and averted her eyes from his, pleasantly flustered. He continued, "And you are different than any girl I haff met so far. You are a real girl. You are smart—"_

_She cut him off, "And I don't know the first thing about Quidditch."_

"_Exactly." He smiled and she giggled quietly, returning her focus back to her beloved books._

Morning dawned bright and early over Krum Manor. The light was casting itself over the Bulgarian hills with a golden clarity. Viktor stood in the crimson kitchen, his hand resting on a crystal goblet. The light hit the glass and cast prisms against his hand. He looked out onto the grounds and across the orchard, deep in thought, until a small cough behind him pulled him back into the house again.

"Good morning," Hermione said, already dressed and ready for the game. Her hair was pulled back from her face in a ponytail, and she had put on a modest amount of makeup. She was wearing a pair of deep maroon robes with a black sash; she dropped a black cloak on the back of a chair in the breakfast nook.

"_Dobro utro_," he said with a small smile. "You're up early. I vas just going to come and vake everyvone up now."

"It's okay, I already roused the children." Hermione took a seat at the breakfast bar across from where he stood. "They sleep like the dead. It's in their blood."

"If I vould haff known you were up, I vould haff started breakfast already," he apologized, checking the clock. "If the little vones are already up, I may haff to get things done the qvick way… vell, actually, they're not really little anymore."

"It's insane. I can't believe Rosie's already fourteen… and Hugo just turned twelve in November," she reminisced. "Do you want help with breakfast? I feel like I should be helping…"

"I vould never make a guest cook, but if you vould like…" He pulled out his wand and started summoning things from the rich mahogany cupboards. "Vould you like to start the coffee?"

"Sure. In the samovar?" she asked, pointing at the decorative silver contraption on the counter.

"It tastes better made than it does out of the bag," he teased, passing her a bag of coffee grounds. She laughed and slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Very funny," she said sarcastically and proceeded to make the coffee.

The Portkey took them to the base of the stadium just outside of Vratsa. The snow on the ground gave way to several dozen tents for both the Vultures and the Ashwinders before leading into a gargantuan white stone stadium. Viktor estimated guessed the arena could hold at least ten thousand cheering fans, nothing like the World Cup, of course, but the thing was, it looked like all of the seats would be filled for this particular match. They had over an hour until the match, meaning there was plenty of time to sift through all of the vendors in sight.

Hugo and Rose were completely dazzled with the sheer amount of memorabilia for sale in the plaza. Rose immediatley dashed over to a display selling action figures and picked up a figurine of Vratsa's Keeper; Ianevski. She pulled out a Bulgarian-English phrase book and flipped to a dog-eared page.

"_Izvinete me, Kolko struva?"_ She read slowly off the page.

The vendor chuckled, and responded in a heavy Bulgarian accent, "Three Galleons. You said that very vell."

Rose passed the man three Galleons from her purse and looked back at the book for a proper reply. "_Blagodarya vi!"_

She happily held the miniature player in her hand as she walked back to rejoin the rest of the group standing a few meters back. Viktor nodded, impressed. "I agree vith the vendor. Perhaps you should study Bulgarian vone day. You pronounce it vell."

"I'd like to. I love languages," Rose replied, watching Ianevski strut back and forth across her palm.

When they finally did make it to their seats, it was with lighter money pouches. Rose had bought a black and crimson Vultures rosette, a team poster, and notebook with Ianevski on the front which she swore to fill with notes, although her mother thought it was ridiculous. Hugo bought a pennant, a hat with a screeching vulture, and a cape with a rather gruesome illustration of a vulture with a bloody snake clenched in its beak.

"That is so violent," Hermione said in regards to Hugo's cape.

Viktor chuckled as he handed each of them a souvenir program and a pair of Omnoculars. "Is not half as bad as vhat the Russians are selling, I am sure… and there vere vorse things out there… they vere just all in writing."

They climbed a great deal of stairs before reaching a hallway that must have been near the top of the stadium. Huge pictures as tall as Viktor was lined the hall. Some of the greatest Vratsa moments were framed in these pictures. Some of them looked ancient, while some look like they may have been taken a year or two ago. Hermione stopped in front of one that Viktor didn't even really notice in passing.

"Viktor, this is you!" She pointed out excitedly. He backtracked to stand beside her and look at the picture.

"I vas fourteen in that picture," he said, thinking back. He had been a great deal shorter then. His hair was whipped back from his face as Jean-Marie deVersailles of the Quafflepunchers followed him in quick pursuit. His face was stern in concentration, fingers just inches away from the Snitch as he inched forward bit by bit. Low to the ground, in desperation, he dove off his broom, catching the Snitch and rolling onto the grass, nearly getting clipped by deVersailles. It still seemed like yesterday, that match, but a yesterday that was followed by a really long today. "Vone of the first of the season and vone of the first I actually got to play. I vas a reserve for two years beforehand."

"You were _fourteen? Rosie's age?_" Hugo said in disbelief, shaking his head. "That's insane."

"Most of the teams in the league said so as vell," Viktor noted with a bit of a chuckle. "I vas half or a third their age. Ve didn't vin the European Cup that year, but I vas just happy to play. Anyvay, ve should get to our seats now or the match vill start vithout us."

Viktor lead them to a small, yet very lavish box with deep red upholstered chairs and crimson team banners hanging from the walls. The box was empty so far, but he knew it would fill up soon. He told Hermione, "Ve'll have others in the box, of course."

Less than ten minutes later, a few more guests filtered into the seats. Viktor stood and greeted a couple with four boys in tow. He turned back to Hermione. "Hermione, you remember Mikhail Poliakoff?"

Hermione stood and offered her hand. "Yes, I remember Mikhail. How have you been?"

Poliakoff kissed Hermione's hand politely. "Very goot. You are looking vell. Viktor told me you vere visiting, but he did not tell me how pretty you have gotten… or that you vere bringing kittens along."

"I mentioned her children," Viktor insisted. "You haff forgotten."

"Maybe so," Poliakoff said with a shrug. Mikhail was ridiculously forgetful. He turned his focus to the game. "So, is Vratsa going to hand Abakan their behinds on a platter?"

"I vouldn't bet othervise," Viktor said certainly. "Ivanova has been training them vell, and half the team is mine next year for the Vorld Cup… so I vould say you Russians have very little chance of vinning."

The other two seats were taken by one of Viktor's former teammates, Gavril Volkov, and his wife. Hugo was absolutely ecstatic to meet another Quidditch star from the Dream Team of 2002, and was beside himself when Volkov signed his pennant. As the hands on Viktor's watch adjusted themselves to the noon position, a large bell sounded at the scoreboard, which wiped itself clean of advertisements and showed the team scores as zero to zero. He quickly reached into his pocket, suddenly remembering he had forgotten something, and pulled out three golden contraptions that greatly resembled headphones.

"Here," he said, handing a pair to each of his foreign guests. "Translators. You von't understand much vithout them."

"I won't understand much _with_ them," Hermione insisted, pulling the golden translator over her ears. All eyes focused on the field, through Omnioculars or not, as the Bulgarian Minister of Magic walked to the center of the field, accompanied by the Russian Minister.

"Good day, Quidditch fans," the Bulgarian Minister announced in his magically amplified voice. "Welcome to the match of the year, the annual Vultures versus Ashwinders game. As both teams are competing for the European Regional Division Cup as top contenders, this will be an unforgettable match."

"We open this game as friends, as always," the Russian Minister said assertively. "But now we let the Quidditch do the talking."

They shook hands and left the field. The referee made his way to the pitch's center, carrying the red Quaffle along with him. The roaring from the stadium was unbelievable, but was drowned out by an even louder hissing noise as a giant snake made of tan and silver smoke started burrowing itself out of the ground. The Russian side of the stands stood from their seats and started hissing along with the sound from the snake apparition. It wiggled its way out of the pitch and encircled the stadium, snapping at the stands viciously. Hermione almost jumped out of her skin when it snapped at their level and Rose actually screamed. The giant snake returned to the center of the field and exploded into a shower of sparks. The Abakan supporters cheered loudly while the Vratsa devotees booed. The tides turned, however as a deafening screech came from the sky. A vulture a hundred times larger than an actual bird shot down towards the ground with amazing speed. It was getting ridiculously close to the pitch when it pulled out of the dive and barrel rolled and soared out around the stadium, its smoky wings grazing the edges of the box seats. After it too turned to sparks, the stadium roared and then quieted.

"Now, for the noble players of the match," the Russian Minister's voice came over the stadium at its thunderous volume. "I present the Abakan Ashwinders—Gorbachov, Eltsin, Siderova, Karenina, Dombrowski, Minskov, aaaaaaand Litvin!"

The Russian supporters jumped to their feet in a deafening wave. Hermione noticed the tiniest sneer on Viktor's face as the riders in tan and silver robes flew around the stadium, pulling flashy aerobatics for their cheering fans.

As they took their places on the pitch, the Bulgarian Minister took his place for the announcement. "And playing for the Vratsa Vultures—

Chernozemski, Raev, Petrova, Todoroff, Tzvetanov, Ianevski, and… Sarac!"

The Bulgarians took the pitch as if they owned it, weaving through each other dangerously like weaving a tapestry across the field. Rose turned excitedly to her mother, talking fast as Ianevski sped past them in a blur of crimson and black. The Vultures lined up over the field as the captains, Dombrowski and Tzvetanov, landed, shook hands rigidly, and regained their spots in the ranks. A whistle blew and they were off.

The game was proving to be as long and intense as anyone had expected. The Chasers were absolutely brutal; there had been dozens of fouls so far. The time on the scoreboard was showing two hours, fifteen minutes with the score at one-hundred-fifty to Bulgaria and one hundred to Russia. Viktor looked over to his guests, who were watching the game as intently as they had promised. Rose had abandoned her chair and was sitting cross legged on the ground, her Omnioculars pointed up at Sarac as he scouted high up for the Snitch. Hugo was listening as Volkov was giving his own commentary on the Chaser movements, and a long-winded history on each of the players, accompanied their statistics. Hermione was really in to the game, cheering on the Chasers like she had been watching the game all her life.

"He could have avoided that foul," she said under her breath as Chernozemski got called for elbow-checking Eltsin in the stomach. "…should have passed earlier…"

"You are really getting the hang of this," Viktor commented to her. She took the Omnioculars off her face and turned to see him smiling softly at her. "I am impressed."

"I'm having a lot of fun," she confessed. "This is even more brutal than the World Cup I saw you in."

Viktor laughed. "Vell, novone has gotten hit in the nose vith a Bludger so far… that means they're doing vell."

"That must have been awfully painful," Hermione said with a cringe. "It was so valiant how you kept on playing..."

"It vas foolish," he said dismissively. "It vas all for honor at that point. Ve vere too far behind to even think of missing that catch. Ve vouldn't haff caught up at any rate."

Rose hopped off her seat on the floor and into her chair, pulling her Omnioculars even closer to her eyes as a streak of crimson darted across the field, shortly followed by a blur of sand-brown. The announcers started talking even faster than they had been before, disregarding talk of the Chasing action and focusing on the Seekers now in a plummet straight towards the green below.

"Sarac was nearly clipped by the Abakan Chasers just now… has he seen the Snitch?"

"They're going so fast, how can they see it? They must have passed it by now…"

"Left it in a different time zone…"

"They're getting too close! They're going to hit!"

At the very last moment, Sarac pulled off and into a barrel roll. Litvin tried to pull up or stop, but hit the ground with a tremendous thud. The crowd jumped to its feet in shock as Litvin rolled over onto his back, still conscious and hurt minimally, considering the impact, but swearing profusely. Sarac swept across the pitch, his boots skimming the grass, the fluttering Snitch grasped firmly in his outstretched hand. The Bulgarian section of the stands roared hugely, their cheers shaking the stands. A team of medics rushed the field to take care of Litvin, who stood shakily and yelled them away, collapsing onto the shoulders of the Beaters who had just landed beside him. Going back to replay the spectacular dive, Hermione read the words at the bottom: _Krum Fient Roll—dangerous Seeker diversion. _In this situation, the diversion had won Bulgaria the match.

The Vultures took a few victory laps around the stadium while the Ashwinders trooped disappointedly towards the Ministers' Box. The Bulgarian Minister shook Captain Dombrowski's hand heartily. He held up the Beater's hand and congratulated them on a game well played. "Let's give a hand to our brothers in the East, the Abakan Ashwinders!"

The stadium clapped animatedly for the visiting team as they filed out of the box and in came the Vultures, each of the players looking positively thrilled to have taken the title with such a margin of points. They took the plaque indicating their victory and headed out to the locker rooms as the crowd started to leave the stands. Viktor stayed seated, gazing across the pitch at the scoreboard, still reading: VRATSA: 300, ABAKAN: 110.

"Thank you so much for taking us, Viktor," Hermione said after he popped something in the oven and leaned up against the counter. "It was a great match. I'm glad we could come see it…"

"Is nothing," he said with the wave of his hand.

"No really, thanks!" Hugo exclaimed.

"Yes, thank you!" Rose added.

Viktor gave them a small smile. "Say nothing of it. It vas my pleasure. Now, I hope you are all very hungry. Dinner is almost ready."

After a hearty dinner and another hour of flying in the dismal light, Hugo and Rose headed off to bed. Sven followed Rose and curled up at the end of the bed, deciding she was giving him more attention than his master. Hermione leaned up against the cushions of the sofa, setting her empty cocoa mug on the coffee table. She admired the painting above the fireplace, which Viktor had pointed out as his parents. A small frame on the mantle caught her attention. Clearly she hadn't noticed it before, because she stood and looked closer at it.

"Oh, Viktor. You still have this?" She picked up the frame, which held a picture of them at the Yule Ball.

He nodded. "My mother vas delighted. She put the photo in the frame right after I sent it to her… You vould haff loved her. She read a lot, just like you."

Hermione looked at the picture for a moment later before dropping onto the couch once again. "That was one of the best nights of my life…" She pulled her knees up beside her and pulled one of the pillows off the floor, tracing the embroidery with her finger.

"Vould you like something else to drink, Hermione," Viktor said, getting up from his leather chair near the fireplace. "Something to celebrate the game?"

"Something with alcohol? I don't think my years of mothering would allow me," she joked. "I'll take whatever you're serving."

Just a moment later, he brought her back a glass of cranberry juice and vodka. She took a sip and nodded approvingly. "It's delicious."

"It's a tradition," Viktor said, taking a drink from his own glass. "My parents vouldn't haff approved if they had known that from our very first vin, I vas drinking vith the rest of the team… only a glass, mind you, but it vas much stronger than this."

"You were just a baby," she said disapprovingly. "You were fourteen!"

"Just barely," he replied with a laugh. "They shouldn't have even offered it to me, Amelia vasn't pleased, but she vas overruled by the rest of the team."

They sat in silence, taking short drinks of the alcohol. Viktor downed the last of his glass and gave a small cough. "It vas so hard not having someone to talk to in the library back at Durmstrang for the veek after ve left Hogvarts," he said candidly.

"I didn't find anyone else at Hogwarts the next two years that I enjoyed working on homework with as much as I enjoyed working with you," Hermione said with a small smile, taking another drink of her glass, still half-full. "Harry and Ron were there with me sometimes, but we were always so busy working on the DA or researching things to help Harry out… it was different with you, though."

"I bet you didn't miss the giggling packs of hyenas," he said lightly. She snorted into her glass. "Just be glad they left your territory. They still haven't entirely left me alone."

"Beautiful girls swarming you, swearing their undying love to you… I'm sure it's something awful," she teased. "I'm just kidding. I know you hate it."

"Indeed," he said with a roll of his ebony eyes. "It's vone thing to enjoy Qvidditch, but it is another thing entire to devote your life to stalking Qvidditch _players._ I've gotten some of the most tasteless propositions from vomen that I couldn't haff even_ thought_ of. I vouldn't describe any of them in proper company." Hermione finished the last of her juice and vodka and turned the conversation to a different topic.

"So, you retired three years ago?" She messed with the fringe on the blanket draped over the back of the couch.

"Yes, I made the decision five years ago and started vorking vith Sarac. I taught him everything I could in the off-seasons and he replaced me vhen I left. He vas in his sixth year at Durmstrang vhen I took him as an apprentice," Viktor said, running his finger over the etching in the glass. "I played long enough. I could haff played longer, but I thought it vould be a good time to take the sidelines. Sarac is good… he vill be better than I vas."

"The 'Man with the Golden Arm' being outshined by his protégé?" Hermione questioned dramatically, laying a hand over her heart.

"I said he _vill _be," Viktor emphasized the future tense indicator in the sentence, losing none of his usual lightheartedness, and took her emptied glass. "It's getting late. I'm sure you'll be vanting to get to bed?"

"Yes," Hermione said, standing from the couch and stretching. "I still feel so restless… I think I'll take a bath and then turn in."

"It's all the Qvidditch," he said as she followed him into the kitchen. "It does that to a person… gets you all vorked up so you can't sleep… the excitement wears off after you play yourself for a vhile."

He set the glasses in the sink and turned back to her, their faces lined in the low light from the gas lamps in the hallway outside. She reached out and wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He held her tightly, one of his hands running across her back comfortingly. She pulled back to face him, her eyes half-parted. The dim light colored her eyes warm amber, burning fiery into his of sparkling ebony. He went with his instinct and kissed her gently and, to his surprise, she kissed him back. His mind was clouded as he kissed her but he pulled away once his senses returned in a flash. It felt wrong… she had just lost her husband a few months back and now he was kissing her? The thing he had craved for since they parted so many years ago tasted almost bitter on his lips. She must have read this resentment in his eyes as she turned to head for the doorway.

"Goodnight, Viktor," she said, reaching the arched entryway back into the hall. She looked back at him, a glimmer of sadness on her pretty features, and made her way to the stairs.

"_Leka nosht, Hermione, I sladki sanishta_,"he called after her. Twenty years… twenty years and it still didn't fit. He was suddenly exhausted as he headed for the stairs, extinguishing the downstairs light lazily with his wand. He had kissed her and something was still off… but how he hoped he could eventually set it right.

* * *

_Dobro utro-_ Good morning  
_Izvinete me, Kolko struva?_- Excuse me, how much is this?  
_Blagodarya vi-_ Thank you  
_Leka nosht, Hermione, I sladki sanishta _- Good night, Hermione, and sweet dreams

**Next up: Chapter 8- Reaching Farewell: A short session with the Vratsa Vultures and a tour of Sofia... which brings up ghosts and feelings neither Viktor, nor Hermione, can repress. :D**


End file.
